La Bête
by Animelover007
Summary: Cassandra and her friends wanted one last adventure together before their prospective careers after university make them drift apart. No one guessed it'd be their last in more ways than one. Now they've been captured and left at the whims of a mysterious organization intent on picking them off one by one. ON HIATUS, UNDER CONSTRUCTION
1. Prologue

_Cassandra's vision was blurry and wet. The air warm and acrid with the smell of burned rubber and exhaust. Her whole body ached, and there was a sharp pinch in her side. Her chest hurt, the seatbelt digging into her ribs each time she took the smallest breath. Cassandra looked up at the ceiling at where her doll had fallen, it's little porcelain face shattered with one blue eye staring at her. It's sweet, serene smile was missing. She coughed, wincing as the belt tightened around her. Rubbing away the wet on her eyes, Cassandra looked up ahead to where her parents were. Her dad sat at the driver's wheel, buckled securely in his seat like he'd told Cassandra how to do. Her mom's must have come undone because she had fallen from her seat, her head perpendicular to the metal roofing._

" _Maman?" Cassandra called out softly, quietly, kicking her feet as they started to tingle. She'd never been upside down for so long, even on the monkey bars at school. "Daddy?" she called again. Neither of them moved at the sound of her voice. Cassandra moved her hands to the buckle, bracing herself far too late as the belt whipped across her small body and gave her over to gravity. She fell to the upturned ceiling with an "oof!", her head hitting her dolls and cutting a sharp line down her cheek._

 _Cassandra whined softly at the pain, rubbing a hand down her face and feeling it come away wet. The prick in her side grew stronger. Ignoring them both, Cassandra crawled to the front of her car. "Maman…Maman, wake up," she told her mother, putting a hand on her shoulder and softly shaking her. Cassandra felt her gut clench when her mother sank down a few more inches. In the light of the flickering dash Cassandra saw her mother's eyes staring up, the electric greys dulled and unseeing. Her expression betraying none of the pain Cassandra knew she must have felt at the bone protruding from her neck._

" _DADDY! DADDY! Maman's—!" Cassandra turned to her father next, fear and panic chocking her from the inside out as she took in the pale color of his face and the red, red blood ruining his sandy hair. Fat tears fell from her eyes as her bottom lip quivered. "…daddy…?" He said nothing. Cassandra inched closer to him, her mother's eyes staring at her as she leaned her ear close to his face and waited for him to breath. And waited. And waited. Speechlessness was all she knew before a wretched sob tore itself free from her throat and left her raw. Anguish filling her as she sat trapped with her dead parents. Alone save for the sound of cars passing them by in the dark._

 _She wouldn't hear the roaring sound of an ambulance until hours later when the red-gold light of dawn leeched into the black of night. She wouldn't be free until long after she'd stopped trying._


	2. Chapter 1: Into the Dark

_January 3, 1992_

 _Last night I dreamed of a strange creature. It was a monstrous wolf with the body of a man; ripping through flesh like it was paper and clawing at its own skin as though it were diseased. Was it a nightmare or a premonition? Or maybe I was just remembering Nan's fairytale from the war._

 _I told her about it, but all she said was,_ "La bête chasse dans l'ombre de vos rêves."

 _The beast hunts in the shadow of your dreams. Whatever that means._

* * *

When Cassandra awoke, it was not to the strip of sunlight through the hotel window, but rather to the flickering light of a single, naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, and sobbing. Cassandra flexed her fingers, working her jaw as she grimaced at the taste in her mouth—like someone had rubbed it with salt and drenched it in filth. The pounding in her temples hinted to the scores of tequila she had drunk the night before, and for a moment she wondered if Adrian had taken them to a crappy motel near the bar.

Her stomach suddenly turned, forcing Cassandra to lurch from the small bed—one hand clamped over her mouth, as she tripped towards a toilet in the far corner of the small room. As she threw up the contents of her stomach—and maybe her stomach as well—the details started to connect in her confused mind. Dread filled her at the realization of a metal bed built into a wall and a toilet in a bedroom. Cassandra looked up from the rim of the toilet and found, at the front of the room, a solid metal door with no handle.

"No…no no no no no," she groaned, absently wiping the back of her hand against her mouth as she scrambled to her feet. Her legs still unsteady, Cassandra collapsed against the door; the subsequent _thud_ erupted against her ears and echoed in the small room. " _Hey!"_ she yelled, scratching at the little window slot in the slab of metal. " _Hey! Guards!_ Um, ah, _p-policia!"_ she shouted again. The only response she heard was more crying and a cynical reply.

"You think we haven't tried that?" she heard Maddie say. Her body still clinging the door, Cassandra turned back to look at her. Maddie leaned against the far wall, her arms crossed over her chest and her chestnut hair a massive tangle atop her head. Over the edge of the cot, huddled into the small space against the corner, Cassandra spotted the honey-gold head of Liz as she sat with her knees curled up to her chest, her baby-face squished as she cried fat tears. Maddie sneered down her. "'Cept for this one; hasn't said a bloody word."

Cassandra swallowed against the dryness in her throat, wetting her lips before she asked her softly, "Liz…Liz, what happened last night?" Liz was their "designated driver" for anything that involved her boyfriend, Dylan, the gang, and alcohol. Without her he would be easily swayed by Peter, and the night would end with police interference.

Liz only shook her head, burying her face in her knees as her body shook harder with choked sobs. " _I—I—I'm sor-r-rry,_ " she wept, saying nothing else or even bothering to explain as Maddie told her, every pore of her thick with irritation and anger,

"You've done nothing but cry the last half-hour! The least you can do is explain." Liz said nothing, her thin shoulders shaking as Cassandra tried to process what was happening—her pounding skull making the process twice as difficult. She pushed away from the door, practically falling onto the thin, stained mattress as she laid back and rubbed her temples. Maddie huffed angrily and walked away from the wall, pacing the small room from one end to the other.

"Maddie, what do you remember?" Cassandra cautiously asked after a few minutes of rhythmic tapping. Maddie never ceased, her fingers claws as they dug into her tanned arms.

"Peter—being a wanker as usual," she bit out between clenched teeth, "Dylan snogging with _her_ " —she shot a dirty look at Liz for a split second before looking away— "and you and Adrian doing shots." She slowed her pacing, seeming to calm down for the moment before she turned on her heel and kicked the door with the side of her boot. "Can't _bloody_ remember anything after that. Next thing _I_ know I'm waking up to this one's screeching."

Cassandra's brows drew together, finding her own memories similarly lacking. She tilted her head back against the bed to look at Liz as the girl fell quiet. Her blue eyes were red and glassy, her face puffy and still squashed as she held in her crying. "Where are the guys?" Cassandra asked, glancing around the room despite the bareness.

"Bollocks to that," Maddie snorted, "Peter prob'ly got us into this mess!" She was starting to get worked up again, reaching her peak just as she slammed her fist against the door and started screaming for the guards, for the police. For Peter's stones on a silver platter.

"Maddie!" Cassandra shouted as she sat back up, wincing as her temples throbbed, "Lay off it!"

"We're in fucking _jail_ , Cassie!" Maddie yelled as she whirled around on her, her blue eyes wide with rage while beside her Cassandra heard Liz whimper.

Ignoring the ringing in her head, Cassandra shouted back, "So don't piss them off! We don't even know what the charges are; you'll just make it worse!" Maddie bit back a retort, turning back to glower uselessly at the door. Cassandra closed her eyes and twisted to rest her back against the wall, too hungover to fight with Maddie any longer. "…Besides, if it is Peter's fault we'll gut him for it later," she relented. A smile creased her lips as the other girl snorted in agreement before starting to pace again.

"…Peter." Maddie stopped in her tracks while Cassandra looked down at Liz out of the corner of her eye.

"What about the fucker?!" Maddie spat, perturbed at the mention of the natural-born troublemaker.

Liz kept her eyes fixed to the floor as she began to tremble; the slightest shaking of her shoulders that quickly spread to her entire body. "It wasn't Peter," she said quietly.

Cassandra glanced up at Maddie, sharing a brief look of disbelief that was one part: Peter having nothing to do with their current predicament, and one part: Liz having finally spoken. They both knew from experience that there was no point in trying to talk to talk to her when she was upset—whether it be that Dylan had forgotten their anniversary, or she'd gotten a C on a midterm. So that she would talk so soon when barely even an hour had gone by was a surprise to them both. "Then why'd the police nab us?" Cassandra asked her. Liz was silent, her tremors still shaking through her bony frame so hard Cassandra could have sworn she heard her teeth chatter. When she finally did speak, however, both Cassandra and Maddie went silent. Fear began to swirl in Cassandra's gut; that familiar nauseous feeling making her want to puke again.

Liz had whispered in her smallest voice, "…they weren't police."

[*~*]

"They're militia."

"They would have killed us or worse by now."

"They're kidnappers."

"We'd be tied up in some basement or warehouse then. Not a well-made prison cell," Cassandra pointed out as she examined the door. The thing wasn't new, but that didn't mean it was weak. Crouching down, she squinted at the hinges, feeling along the grooves for a weakness as she continued to listen to Maddie bounce ideas off her of who their captors might be. Liz had finally calmed down enough to slip into sullen silence, sitting curled up in a little ball on the cot while Maddie sat beside her, combing her fingers through her tangled hair.

What felt like hours ago, Liz had told them a group of men wearing dark clothes and gasmasks had ambushed them on the gang's way back to the hotel. Capturing a group of drunk university kids must have gone easy given where they were. _And there must have been a lot of them to bring in six adults_ , Cassandra mused, picking at the pin in the hinge. _I can't imagine Dylan going down without at least three people on top of him._

"Who the hell else could have captured us?" Maddie asked finally, exhausting her guesses.

"Someone who has access to a prison cell," Cassandra sighed, rocking back on her heels to look back up at the door.

" _Two_ prison cells," Liz clarified quietly.

Cassandra and Maddie fell silent. It was obvious that they'd been separated, and that that might mean there were more cells outside. What neither of them bothered to say, however, was that that didn't necessarily mean they were still alive. "We need to find out where the guys are," Cassandra stated instead as she straightened out of her crouched position.

"And how do you sugges—"

"DYLAAAAAN! AADRIAAAAAN! PEETEEER!" Liz had bolted from the cot, pushing Cassandra out of the way as she practically collided with the door. Her fists banging against the heavy metal, she started screaming at the top of her lungs, "IT'S ME! IT'S LIZ! WHERE ARE YOUUU?!"

Maddie grabbed at her shoulder, trying to turn her from the door as she said exasperatingly, "What the hell are you doing! Have you gone mad?!"

"You got any brighter ideas?" Liz asked her, her blue eyes wide and her breath heavy as she stared at Maddie. Practically daring her to say it again as she shook off her hand.

Maddie stared down at her for a bare moment before grabbing her shoulder again and shoved her aside. "Move over," she said, before imitating Liz. Had Cassandra been in the right state of body, she'd have been right alongside them, screaming herself hoarse and bloodying her knuckles to understand where their friends were, and where they themselves were. But her head was still pounding, and her mouth and throat felt like she'd been gargling sand—whether because of the tequila shots they'd done last night, or because of the men in masks, she had no idea.

Instead Cassandra leaned against the corner near the door, her arms tucked against the queasiness of her stomach as she watched Liz and Maddie shout over and over and over. It wasn't until when the minutes turned long, and her friends' voices turned rough that they heard the first clear sign of their friends' being there with them: a series of monotonous shouts that couldn't have been too far away.

They'd all paused to take in the single word they heard, shock clear on Maddie's face as she murmured, "It sounds like—"

" _DYLAN!_ " Liz shouted, her hands scrambling over the door uselessly, "DYLAN! We're in here!"

Cassandra took a step away from the wall, her ears pricked for the smallest sound beyond the room they were in. Was it really Dylan? Was he with the guys? He sounded like he was getting closer—but shouldn't he be in a cell like them? Cassandra let the questions drop away as something slammed into the door, and said in Dylan's voice, "Liz! Liz baby! Baby, don't worry—I'll get you guys out."

He sounded out of breath and slightly panicked. But rather than light on the idea that they were getting out, Cassandra nudged Liz to the side and shouted loud enough for him to hear, "Dylan! Do you know who took us? What's going on?"

For a long moment they heard nothing, not even Dylan's panting breaths. When he finally spoke, it was not to answer Cassandra's question. "I'll get you out," he said, his words almost like a prayer—or a promise to himself, "I'll get you out in a minute. I just have to—" He went silent again. Each of the them strained to hear something as more shouting issued from the door. Her heart in her throat, Cassandra yelled,

" _Dylan!_ Dylan who it that?!" The slight hope she had that it was Adrian and Peter—finally caught up to him—sputtered out completely a split-second later.

" _Stay away from me!_ " he was screaming, " _Stay away from me, you freaks!_ " Cassandra thought she heard heavy footsteps fast approaching—or maybe Dylan had cut and run. Confusion and shock had stolen over her friends' faces—she was sure a similar mask covered hers as well.

"Get this window open!" she told them, picking at the edges of the slot. Dylan had started to scream again, shouting over and over for something to stay away from him. Fear seized her chest when his dwindling voice came back in a rush. The words had changed in an instant from "get away from me" to "let me go". Liz stayed rooted to her spot, her eyes glazed over with fresh tears as she started to scream for him. Maddie had joined Cassandra, her nails prying loose a thin sliver of light no thicker than a hair.

Cassandra felt her nerves beginning to fray as the sounds got louder and louder—a constant assault from all sides as Maddie joined Liz after a moment of shocked silence. It seemed as if the screaming would never stop. And when it did, she felt a lump of dread form thick in her throat. When Dylan had gone silent, Maddie had joined him soon after as she looked over at Cassandra in wide-eyed horror. Between them Liz got more and more frantic.

And then something else slammed against the door, and a deep guttural voice shouted one single, foreign word. Maddie's brows drew together while Liz fell silent immediately, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. None of them knew what the word meant, but the inflection was clear for them to be quiet. Cassandra ignored that command as she hit hear fist against the door. She wouldn't be so easily cowed when they'd done nothing wrong; when their friend was being tormented.

" _Hey_! Who are you?!" she yelled, scratching at the slot in the door again, "What did you do to Dylan?!" Her nails caught in the sliver of space Maddie had made just as the small slat was pulled away. The lighting outside was only slightly better than the flickering lightbulb inside the cell, but showed little of the stone hallway, and a shapeless mass of black. Cassandra froze still as a gas mask emerged from the dark shape and circular glass winked at her. She hadn't truly believed Liz until that moment about who had capture them. Men in gas masks? Group abductions? How could something so horrific and fantastical happen to them? Behind her, she heard Liz whimper softly before asking,

"Who are you?"

The man did not answer, continuing to stare at them a moment longer before pulling away from the door. The slim viewing window was left open. Cautiously, Cassandra pressed herself against the door, peering out as much as she could down one end of the hallway, and then the oth—

Cassandra felt her heart plummet into her stomach and her chest tighten. Her fingers felt cold and numb as she pressed them against her mouth in a mix of horrified revulsion and terror. Bile threatened to rise up her throat as blood roared in her ears, muddling Liz's voice as she asked her what was wrong. What did she see? Why was she so quiet? Cassandra reacted on impulse and curled her hand into a fist, banging it wildly against the door. "NON! NON! _NON!_ _Vous salauds!_ " she screamed, rage flooding her body the longer she stared at the sight before her. The man came back then, hitting his own fist against the door once and spitting the same foreign word. Cassandra ignored him, shoving her hand through the slot, and trying to claw him closer as he hastily stepped back and bit out what sounded like a curse.

Cassandra felt someone's fingers dig into her shoulders and waist, wrenching her back and pulling her arm free of the window. She continued to kick and scream as Maddie hauled her to the farthest corner, trying to talk sense to her. For a split-second Cassandra started to calm down, her body shivering with adrenaline. But then she saw Liz step close to the window, and she fought to break free of Maddie's hold on her. She yelled all the while for Liz not to look, and felt her heart break from the soulful, heart-wrenching wail as Liz crumpled to the ground, her head in her hands as she bowed close to the floor.

"What is it?! What's out there?!" Maddie shouted above Liz's mournful screams, causing the poor wretch to cry louder—as though she could hear her over the sound. Cassandra stilled in Maddie's grasp, breathing hard as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. Unbidden a memory surfaced—a stupid bet she and Dylan had made on a football match in a pub two years earlier. The warmth of his smile, the taste of warm beer in her mouth, the raucous laughter and cussing around them as the winning goal slid out of reach.

How he was then was so different from how he was now. Glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling, his blondish hair was soaked brown with sweat while his mouth was turned down in a rare frown, laying hidden the dimple in his cheek. What truly made Cassandra's gut clench, and caused Liz to wail that ungodly howl, was the sight of the deep red color pouring out of Dylan's torn throat, staining his clothes and pooling beneath him as he twitched and drowned in his own blood.

Cassandra imagined that when Dylan died, a small sigh had slipped from his lips as he gave himself over to eternal rest. But the real way she knew was when the slight gurgling sound he was making finally stopped, and they heard the people outside drag his corpse away.


	3. Chapter 2: Of Fear and Madness

_January 10, 1992_

 _I dreamed about them again. About_ it _again. How dark it was. How much smoke there was. Nan woke me up, but I couldn't stop coughing. I just keep seeing them like that. Tangled and twisted like that. Dead. And trapped there with them._

 _Nan says they'll ease up eventually—the nightmares. That the details will disintegrate over time._

 _I asked her if her memories of the war did the same. She didn't answer me._

* * *

Grief was something Cassandra both knew well and had not experienced so heavily in twelve years. Neither was it something she thought she'd have to attribute to a friend so early in her life.

If it seemed like yesterday that Dylan had passed, it was because it might've been. With no clocks or sunlight or people to tell her otherwise, a minute had felt all the world to her like an hour. If it seemed like they'd never get over the sight of his corpse, it was because they wouldn't. Or at least, that was Cassandra's own mindset.

She looked up at Liz from her seat on the floor next to the cot, staring at the watermarks on her cheeks, and the red rimming her eyes. She felt sure Liz would never recover from this, even when they made it out of here with Adrian and Peter. Cassandra was glad that Liz was finally sleeping, though she knew by the twitches of her limbs and the furrow of her brow that it was not peaceful. Beside her, Maddie was curled around Liz's slight body, helping to hold her together even while unconscious.

She envied them both, but knew that even if she tried to sleep it would evade her like it always had. So instead she stayed awake and kept watch, listening for anything other than the light breathing of her friends. She started when the slide of metal against metal hit her ears and sat up straight with alarm. As she watched, a flap at the foot of the door opened and a bowl was tossed in by a dark gloved hand, the contents spilling over the edge as the hand tossed in two more before quickly closing and locking it in place.

Cassandra stared at it for a long moment before she moved, crawling on her hands and knees to where the bowls sat. It looked like porridge, or some kind of food paste. Whatever it was, it didn't look in the least bit appetizing.

"Bet it's poisoned," she heard Maddie murmur suddenly. Cassandra looked back at her as the girl sat up, the heel of her hand rubbing at her eyes. Cassandra gave her a withering look as she took one of the bowls and dipped a finger in.

"They don't look the type to do something like that," she quipped back. Maddie fell silent, both their thoughts cast back to yesterday as Cassandra tasted gruel. "It tastes like nothing," she said, picking up the other bowl and walking back to the bed. They ate in silence, tipping the bowls up to their lips and drinking it down. Neither knew what to say. What to do. What did people do when they'd been taken hostage? What did they talk about after witnessing their friend die? Cassandra hadn't the foggiest, and she doubted Maddie had any clue either by how long she'd been silent. As it remained, Cassandra's only idea was to try and find out where Peter and Adrian were, and from there…Well, there was the matter of the cell door, and the men outside of it.

Cassandra glanced over at it again. She'd spent a long time staring at it while Liz and Maddie slept, and the nearest she could tell in the dim lighting was that it _looked_ to be at least fifty years old. If not more so in better lighting. Solid metal, considerable rust along the outer edges but none on the hinges—which meant they'd been replaced recently. _Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep us locked in,_ she mused, scrapping at the bottom of the tarnished metal bowl for the last bit of food. She didn't know when they'd be fed next—if at all.

It seemed to Cassandra that their best chance of escape was to work the pins in the hinges free—though whatever happened after that was a mystery to her. They didn't know the layout. They didn't know how many people there were on the outside. Hell, they didn't even know if they were still in Brazil. It was all an endless stream of variables—any of which could end in their deaths. Among them one already had.

 _How did Dylan get out?_ Cassandra wondered, turning over the last ten or so hours in her head. _Did he somehow break out? Or did he break free of whoever had him._ Three things had died with Dylan: what the building looked like outside the cell, why they'd been taken, and who had captured them. _They don't seem to speak English or Portuguese, that much I do know._

"What are you thinking about?" Maddie asked her, lowering the bowl from her lips to look at her over the rim.

"Do you remember what Dylan said? About the people outside?" Cassandra asked.

"Yeah, he called them 'freaks'. Pretty spot-on I'd say," Maddie mumbled to herself, drinking down the rest of the food before dropping the bowl uncaringly to the floor. Liz stirred a bit at the sound, murmuring in her sleep.

"How do you mean?" Cassandra asked her, pitching her voice low as to not wake Liz up.

"What kind of people kidnap other people? _Murder them_ even?" Maddie explained.

"Right…" Cassandra wasn't convinced, but it was as good a guess as any. "Watch your words when Liz wakes up; it'll upset her."

"The little chit will have to put the mourning on hold until we get out of here. Crying won't make the freaks outside let us go." As coarse as Maddie was—and as cruel as it was to say—she had a point. Liz couldn't break down on them now, not when they were separated and caged like animals. Not when Adrian and Peter were in the same boat they were. Though…

"Dylan was her boyfriend; let her mourn a little longer," Cassandra pleaded with Maddie, earning a scowl that dissolved into a begrudging nod. "For now, I need your help with something."

"With what?"

"The hinges," Cassandra pointed towards the door, "I think we can jimmie the pins free."

[~*~]

Ideally—theoretically—it was simple to remove a door from its hinge, even if it was locked, by removing the pins in place. This was Cassandra's idea when she first used the thin edge of a bowl to pry away the slip of metal. _Theoretically_ it was possible. Put in practice it was more difficult than she had assumed. For one, it would be much easier (and faster) to use a hammer and a flathead screwdriver to apply some additional pressure. As it was, getting the bowl to not slip was its own achievement. On a second point, even if they somehow managed to get the hinges free of the wall, there might be a lock or a bar in place that prevented the door from moving regardless. In which case, coming up with another plan might be the better option—as Maddie kept suggesting.

"Cassandra, you've been doing this for an hour," she groaned again, "It's not going to work. Let's just think of something else." Maddie had tried prying the hinge in the middle of the door, giving up some time after when she'd slipped and nearly hit herself in the face.

"So, think of another plan!" Cassandra spat through gritted teeth, readjusting her grip as she angled the edge of the bowl on the lower pin, "I'll keep working at this until you do." She heard a scoff of annoyance behind her. But whatever words Maddie was about to say went unheard as the bowl slipped and the edge of the hinge dug into Cassandra's forearm.

" _Putain de merde!_ " Cassandra shouted, dropping the bowl and letting it clatter as she pressed a hand over her arm. Liz started at the sudden sound, waking up to find Cassandra hunched over on her knees while Maddie stood by with a wince on her face.

"Told you, you should have stopped," Maddie said, dropping her crossed arms as she went to crouch before Cassandra. She looked up at Maddie's outstretched hand, glaring a little at her as she laid her arm in it. The hinge had dragged along the side of her forearm, the split skin resembling a zipper as blood welled in the shallow wound. "Liz, we need your hair band," Maddie told her as the girl rose gingerly from the bed to see what was wrong.

Wordlessly Liz untied the wide ribbon from her head, smoothing out the crinkles where she'd knotted it before handing it over. Cassandra looked up at her, her brows knitting together in worry at the dullness of Liz's blue eyes and the sallowness of her peach-cream skin. "Liz, there's some food here for you," Cassandra told her quietly, pointing to where the bowl sat by the side of the door. Liz stared down at her a little longer before she looked away, her lower lip jutting out at the bowl of mush in obvious distaste.

"We're prisoner's here," she whined softly, her hands trembling as she bent to retrieve the dish.

Maddie sneered down at Cassandra's arm as she wrapped it. "Gee, what was your first clue?" she said sarcastically. Cassandra shot her a look. The comments and one-liners were unnecessary, and she knew it. Their situation sucked; the last thing anyone needed was Maddie's cynicism. Especially when what they needed to do right now was to work together.

Liz continued as if she hadn't heard her, staring into the bowl as her voice warbled. "We're going to die here," she said quietly, the joints of her fingers white as she gripped the bowl tighter, "Just like Dylan." Her voice broke on his name, her eyes darting as she looked up at them sharply. "One of us is next!" she suddenly shouted. "One of us is going to die next!" Cassandra got up from her knees, her forearm still smarting.

"Liz! Liz, calm down," Cassandra began, trying to keep her tone neutral even as the other girl threw the bowl of mush away and grabbed Cassandra's shoulders. Tendrils of sand-colored hair caught under Liz's fingers as she dug her nails into Cassandra and shouted,

"I! CAN'T! We're going to die here! A million miles away from home in some god-forsaken prison!"

" _Hey!_ " Cassandra cut in, "We're not going to die here."

"How do you know that?" Maddie asked. She'd been standing aside, observing Liz's breakdown with only the mildest interest. "Liz's right. Dylan's gone and carked it and we have no idea where Peter and Rian are." She came over to pry Liz's hands off her shoulders, standing beside her as she told Cassandra, "Face it, Cass. Our chances of getting out of here without a pine wood box are next to nothing."

She stared at them. How could they give up so easily? All they had was a single body and no other proof that Peter and Adrian weren't okay. "They're still alive," Cassandra said, giving them each a hard stare, "How you two can write them off so easily is beyond me."

"We're not writing anyone off," Maddie countered, fixing her arms across her chest while Liz scrunched up her face in an ugly sneer, "We got hit with a cold dose of reality. We're preparing ourselves for the worst outcome."

Cassandra went silent. Maddie and Liz followed suit. After a minute or two Cassandra turned away from both and went to sit on the ground by the end of the cot. She nodded at the discarded bowl, the "food" stubbornly clinging to the inside even as flecks tracked down the wall and speckled the floor. "Better eat that," she told Liz, her tone dry as she gave them another outcome to prepare for, "We don't know when we're getting fed next—if at all."

[~*~]

After several long hours the view slot in the door was pulled back, and an order was barked at them in a language they didn't understand. It wasn't until the man closed the slot and nudged the flap at the bottom impatiently with his boot that Liz twitched to attention and gathered up the bowls, stacking one in another and pushing the small pile through. Another trio of bowls came through the flap and the feint sound of footsteps disappeared down the hall. When it happened twice more Cassandra started counting. It wasn't until she had counted four meals that the first of them broke and used the toilet. She and Liz looked away at distant points in the ceiling, turning their backs and trying to deafen their ears with small talk. At six meals Cassandra broke next, focusing on a spot above her head as she did her business and ignored the murmured words between her friends.

Liz was adamant to last as long as was physically possible—evident by the bounce of her sandal-clad foot and the clenching of her thighs. Eventually she'd give in and share in their prior discomfort and get over her hang-up over bathroom privacy like them. Though even when she did, she still clung to it like a comfort blanket.

"I have to pee," she'd said, her voice loud in the silent cell—something Cassandra noticed as unintentional as Liz seemed to shrink away from the volume.

Maddie nodded towards the toilet from where she lounged on the cot. "There's the loo; have a good piss then." She didn't bother to look away from the ceiling.

"I can't go in front of other people," Liz stated meekly, the bouncing of her foot worsening. Maddie stayed silent, leaving Cassandra to try to convince her.

"You have to do it eventually, you might as well do it now," she sighed, tilting her head back against the grungy wall and shutting her eyes against the flickering lightbulb. Three meals ago—a day by her estimate—it had gone from poor dimness to interminable flashes of darkness and light. It'd probably go out soon; the only "bright side", as it was, that the darkness would be an improvement to seeing their dismal surroundings.

Liz stayed silent for a few minutes longer, her nails digging into the skin of her palms while her thighs squeezed closer together—as if she thought that if she squeezed hard enough they'd merge together and eliminate the need to urinate. Muttering a quiet curse, Liz pushed herself to her feet slowly, trying not to jostle her bladder as she pulled down her shorts and sat down in one quick motion. Not that attempt at discretion mattered since neither Maddie or Cassandra were paying attention to her. Maddie was lost in her own world, probably pitching herself back to the lectures of past professors she had either enjoyed or hated. Cassandra focused her senses to trying to hear outside the thick door for the padded sounds of footsteps until the sound of liquid hitting liquid cut through the silence.

Liz cringed while Cassandra flinched. "The sound is so gross," she whined softly, mentally willing the moment to be over much faster than it was going.

"We've all had a turn," Maddie interjected, "When you're done we can all be embarrassed together." Cassandra kept her eyes closed for Liz's privacy, but preened her ears when she said,

"Like that time at camp?"

Maddie snorted, soft laughter filling the room as Liz finished and zipped her pants back up. Cassandra arched a brow at them, curious. Camp? She couldn't think of what time they were talking about. They'd only been to camp together a few times before her parents had died and her grandmother had moved her to her home in the French countryside.

"What time was that?" she asked them, curious as to what they were talking about.

Liz had loosened up a bit, choking back giggles, while Maddie rushed to explain through her own laughter. "Oh, it was…" she'd begun, before the humor in her voice died and her tone grew somber. "It was _after_ you left," she said. It was then Cassandra knew she had intruded on an inside joke, and felt embarrassment creep up her neck where before it had belonged solely to Liz.

"Oh," was all Cassandra had to say to that. Maddie kept her muted mood, and even Liz adopted her attitude with the slight variation of looking guilty. Cassandra didn't know why the girl felt that way. Maybe when they were ten she might've felt betrayed that something they did together every year had continued even when Cassandra was no longer part of it. That Liz and Maddie grew closer through the distance Cassandra had had put between them. Now, however, at twenty-two Cassandra didn't care about her lack of presence in their lives at that time, simply because they'd managed to reconnect years later.

Regardless, whatever good humor that had pervaded the horror of their little cell disappeared. A brief flicker of normalcy that had dimmed quickly to darkness and looming, unknown threats.

"How long do you think it's been?" Maddie asked, her voice unnaturally quiet and thoughtful.

Cassandra thought back to the last time they'd been fed, counting on her fingers the days she had estimated. "Three. Maybe four," she answered, uncurling her legs from her chest and spreading them out before her. She'd taken off her shoes, the clunky boots and socks discarded in a corner while her clothes felt all too tight on her. Her entire body felt like it was covered in a layer of film; sweat and grime mixing together uncomfortably. "I don't know how long we were out for though," she reiterated.

"Four sounds about right." Liz came to sit beside her, wrapping her thin arms around her knees as she rested her head against Cassandra's shoulder. Through the long hours they'd been stuck there, a kind of air had invaded the little room. The kind that stank of boredom, restlessness and anxiety. Their only contact was a gloved hand that fed them and a bodiless voice that spoke nonsense words. Cassandra had spent the last several days trying to figure out what language it was, but her expertise was limited to that of her Father's crisp English and her Maman's lyrical French.

 _It sure as hell doesn't sound like Portuguese, that's for sure_ , Cassandra thought bitterly, glaring at the lightbulb hanging above them.

"How long do you think they'll keep us here?" Maddie asked after a moment, uncrossing her arms from behind her head as she sat up in a flourish, resting her elbows on her knees as she looked down at the two of them.

Before Cassandra could reply, Liz interjected. "The question is _why_ they are keeping us here." They'd had a few ideas about the why, spanning anywhere from hostage money to human trafficking. The latter of which seemed more likely the longer they were held there. Cassandra's jaw clenched at the _other_ idea that had crossed her mind, wrapping her arm around Liz's shoulder and squeezing her close. If those men dared touch them, she'd break their bones.

Her thoughts—their thoughts—were interrupted by the erratic sound of footsteps. Heavy, multiple feet tromping down the hallway. Cassandra's heartrate sped up. Were they coming for them at last? Were they about to face their captors? She only vaguely realized Liz was holding her breath beside her, her eyes wide as she stared at the door. On the bed Maddie had gone equally still, her chest just barely rising as she stood up, her bare feet light as she tiptoed closer to the door. They watched her as she wedged a nail in between the slat of metal and slid it open just a smidge.

The sliver of light from the door allowed in more sound: the heavy footsteps coming down the hall, the _scrrrp-scrrp_ as the men outside dragged something with them. And the lightest whimper of a broken man. It wasn't until they'd drawn closer that Cassandra felt both relieved and ill.

" _Where_ ," the man sobbed, " _Where are you taking me?_ " She felt her heart plummet into her stomach. She'd never heard him sound like this. Never heard Peter utter a sound that wasn't laughter or disbelief or amazement. Cassandra had never heard him sound so afraid. "Oh please, God!" he shouted, louder as they passed by their door. Maddie flinched away, though from the sliver there was no way they'd have seen her. "Please not that place! Please! I'll do anything!" Peter yelled, before his voice devolved quickly into the cries of a wounded animal. A door slammed shut, muffling his voice.

Had they hurt him? Had they thrown him in a cell close by? They kept their questions to themselves until the footsteps started up again. They kept silent until the sound receded down the hallway and disappeared altogether before Liz and Cassandra sprang to their feet. Their noses were practically pressed to the door, both trying to see out the sliver of space.

"Peter," Cassandra said, before shouting, "P-Peter!" The muffled crying continued. Cassandra wedged her nails into the slot and pulled it open further, its rusted edges sticking to the inside grooves. She looked down both ends of the hallway, trying to figure out what door he was behind. " _Peter!_ Where are you?!" Cassandra shouted again, gaining no ground until Maddie pushed her out of the way and yelled,

"God-dammit, Peter! Fucking answer us already!" It was the one and only time Cassandra was glad of Maddie's dislike of Peter for it got him to stop crying and mutter out a stunned,

"M-M-Mads?"

"Yeah, Peter, it's us!" Cassandra yelled before Maddie could get a sarcastic word in edgewise, "We're all here."

Peter was quiet for a time, letting the news of their continued survival sink in before a gasp-like sound of mixed relief and laughter bubbled up from his lips. "Thank God!" he said, "Thank God you're all okay."

"Yes, yes, we're fine, Peter," Cassandra confirmed. His voice sounded like it was coming from the left, so Cassandra focused on that side of the hall only. So many doors. So many cells. Which one was he behind? "We've been stuck here for days. Where have you all been, Peter?"

He went silent again. Cassandra strained her ears. "I don't—I don't know," he sobbed, sniffling snot, "They—they brought back Dylan but—but he was…" his voice broke on the name, his sobbing getting worse. "Oh God, Lizzie. Lizzie, I'm so sorry," he apologized, "Dylan's—"

"We know," Cassandra rushed to interrupt, unwilling to delve back into the memory. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Liz, noting the subdued expression that had taken over her face. Her voice softer she said again, "We know, Peter." Exhaling a sigh, she switched gears, and asked about the only person missing from their party, "What about Adrian? Was he with you? _Is_ he with you?" Cassandra couldn't keep the hopeful tone out of her voice. Neither could she mask her crestfallen appearance as Peter replied contrary to what she'd wanted.

"Rian? I—I haven't seen him," he said, "Like, not even before they took Dylan away."

Cassandra supposed it was too much to hope for that he'd never been taken. That he'd somehow escaped when they'd been abducted. But Liz's unencumbered memory told them that he'd been taken and thrown in the back of a jeep with them. And if he wasn't there with Peter, and he hadn't been seen…

She stopped thinking of the only other explanation, swallowing back the lump in her throat—which was hard to do with how dry her mouth had gone. "What—what have they been doing to you, Peter?" Cassandra asked at the same time Liz said, "Do you know who took us?"

Silence again. She'd never known Peter to be silent for so long—it was as though the guy needed to fill the empty space with laughter or groans from terrible jokes and thoughtless pranks. "…They're red," he finally said, his voice warbling, "Their eyes…they're red."

 _He's hysterical,_ Cassandra thought, biting the inside of her cheek as she pursed her lips against a disappointed frown. If he'd gone mad, there was no way he could give them any useful information. While she pondered the possible meanings behind his nonsense, Maddie gradually lost her patience and slammed a fist against the door. She and Liz jumped at the suddenness of her rage. Maddie never could keep herself calm around Peter—she was much too serious for his grade-school shenanigans and while the rest of them were close friends with each other, Maddie and Peter had never gotten past the initial stage of "unwitting acquaintances".

"Enough with the joking, Peter!" she shouted, her nails biting into her palm, "Just tell us who the fucks taken us!"

Cassandra grabbed at her shoulder, practically dragging her back from the door. "Maddie, enough!" she shouted, trying to catch her friend's eye before she lowered her voice. "He's terrified; just like us." Maddie looked at her then, her eyes bright with anger. Two copper coins that quickly dimmed as her rage snuffed out and she shook Cassandra's hand off her. Maddie turned her back on them, crossing her arms in a fit of defiance as she stalked back to the cot and flopped down on it.

"Tosser's mad anyway; doubt he'll be useful."

Cassandra gritted her teeth against a snide retort. On her worst day Maddie wasn't a good person to be around but getting kidnapped had made her altogether unbearable if Cassandra had to be honest. But like she and Liz, Maddie was afraid. And like them she didn't know what was in store for them. Regardless, Cassandra left her to herself and made an attempt to make sense of what Peter had said. "You said red, Peter? Like…they were bloodshot?" she asked slowly, going with the first—and frankly only—explanation she could think of. _Were we taken by a drug cartel?_ she asked herself. There was silence hanging off the end of her question. All she heard was the light breathing of Liz next to her, and little else. Peter had stopped sniffling and whimpering. It was eerie. Eerier still was when the sound she was used to—the warmth of his laughter and the promise of joy and amusement it usually brought—was corrupted by a harsh bitterness, depreciating its value. _Maybe Maddie is right,_ Cassandra thought when the laughter stopped abruptly, and Peter answered her in a flat tone so unlike him, _maybe he has gone mad._

"Cassie…" he'd started, more serious than she'd ever heard him, "they were _red_ ," Peter said, highlighting the minor detail he'd shared earlier before telling them _exactly_ what he'd meant. "Red like a demon's."


End file.
